


i, capitoline

by Spacedog



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes as Captain America, F/M, Lactation Kink, Minor Bucky Barnes/Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter as Captain America, Power Dynamics, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21686833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacedog/pseuds/Spacedog
Summary: when peggy carter, commander-general of S.H.I.E.L.D., asks bucky barnes—part-time captain america, full-time supersoldier, and definitively not an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.—for a favor, of course, he obliges.especially when he knows just what sort of risks and rewards that favor entails.(or: a nasty, nasty gift for a nasty, nasty pal.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	i, capitoline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodmanperfectsoldier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmanperfectsoldier/gifts).



> in advance of the one-year anniversary of tumblr's ban on "female-presenting nipples," here's a fic of peggy carter getting her tiddies sucked. 
> 
> which is all to say, this is, possibly, the filthiest fucking thing that i have ever worked on, and a major squick to people, for multiple reasons, i'm sure. so, be sure to heed the tags, friends.

Bucky Barnes—part-time Captain America, full-time supersoldier, and affiliate, not agent, of S.H.I.E.L.D.—has been in S.H.I.E.L.D. for about five minutes. He hasn’t arrived at his office. He’s still in his tac suit, from an early-morning mission. He hasn’t gotten a chance to change into civilian clothes. He hasn’t even gotten a chance to grab coffee from the nice little café in the lobby.

And yet, there Bucky is, practically still at the entrance, intercepted by some baby S.H.I.E.L.D. agent way, way of his depth.

“Captain Barnes,” the baby agent says, looking like he’s gonna fuckin’ fold in half under Bucky’s gaze. _Good._ “Commander-General Carter needs you in her office.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Baby Agent nods. “She—she says it’s urgent, sir.”

It wasn’t often that Peggy—Commander-General Carter, when they both were at work, former Captain America herself, and second of three supersoldiers in New York City—demanded urgency from Bucky. And, born and raised English as she was, Commander-General Carter was never one to exaggerate. Whatever it was that she needed, Bucky was sure that she did, in fact, _need him._

“Alright,” is all he says, with a nod. Coffee would have to come later, whenever later would be. “I’m on my way.”

**\---**

The S.H.I.E.L.D. office of the Commander-General requires special authorization to access, biometric scans to enter, and a special elevator to even get to. Paneled by floor-to-ceiling one-way windows and taking up the entire top floor of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s New York City headquarters, Peggy’s office is the closest thing to a watchtower that the building—that S.H.I.E.L.D. as an organization, that New York City—has. And at its helm, as its chief watchwoman, is Peggy, former Captain America, current Commander-General of S.H.I.E.L.D., and supersoldier, just as enhanced as Bucky, just as enhanced as Steve. 

“Commander-General,” Bucky says, as soon as he enters. The elevator doors behind him slide closed with a sharp _hiss._ “You wanted to see me?”

“Ah, yes. Come in, Captain,” says Peggy’s familiar voice, from behind her desk. Her chair is turned toward the city skyline in front of her, facing away from Bucky. As Bucky puts his duffel bag down, he notices a strange, buzzing, though not unwelcome, sort of energy filling the air as he approaches her. Something is about to happen—something exciting. Whatever it is, whatever it may be, Bucky isn’t sure. But he has an idea. And if it’s what he hopes, it enthralls him. 

Peggy’s version of the serum made her far stronger, faster, and more-resilient than Bucky’s or Steve’s. She didn’t build and rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D. from the ground-up on luck alone, after all. But with the potency of Commander-General Carter’s serum came peculiar side-effects.

Very, _very_ peculiar side-effects.

Not bad, of course. Not bad at _all._ Just. Peculiar.

And when Peggy turns her chair around, one of those _very peculiar side-effects_ makes itself clear as day and on full display.

Because Peggy, as the result of her serum, every now and then, once every couple months, for about a week—maybe because of supersoldier hormones, maybe because of the serum itself, maybe for no real discernable reason at all— _makes milk._

And, as is now clear, this week is one of those weeks.

Peggy stands, towering over Bucky, even more so with those sky-high heels on. Her engorged breasts—perky and full at their natural state, even when they’re not over-filled—dangle in front of him, exposed, beads of milk already streaming rivulets down her pert pink nipples. Bucky doesn’t break eye contact as she tips his chin up, her cherry-red nails stark against the sterile whiteness of her office.

“You see why I called you here today, don’t you?” she asks him, her voice serious, level. Bucky nods, a picture of professionalism, a picture of respect.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, his voice soft. 

“Be a good soldier and take care of this for me, won’t you, Captain?” Commander-General Carter asks, cupping her breasts, getting them all slick and shiny with her own leaked milk. She shimmies, just a little bit, white fabric of her sleeves shifting to bunch at her elbows, exposing broad, muscular shoulders. Not that she needed to undress any further anyway; her blouse probably couldn’t even button, with how _full_ she is, even after pumping twice— _twice!_ —already. 

As if Bucky could say no to her offer. As if he would ever want to. He doesn’t even vocalize the idea of a _no_. Instead, Bucky just nods, standing at attention like the good soldier he is. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Right,” she says, as she settles back into her chair. It’s a command, not an acknowledgement. She does not break eye contact with Bucky as she moves, leaning forward, just so. “On your knees, then.”

And of course, Bucky does, and with a smile, too. He swallows as he approaches her, the smell of her milk already flooding his head, its cloying sweetness almost enough to make him dizzy. Slowly, he takes one of her breasts in his mouth, moving carefully, deliberately, making sure he doesn’t even _hint_ any disrespect towards his superior officer. 

He doesn’t suck, not yet, as much as he wants to. Instead, he just mouths at her, running his tongue hungrily along the soft expanse of her breast, along her areola, teasing her as much as she’ll let him. Heat begins to pool in his stomach, and he feels himself going hard against his tac pants. Commander-General Carter, too, moves like she’s been touched by a live wire, letting out a low, short hum of approval, groping her other breast in rhythm with the movement of Bucky’s mouth. She kneads her nipple between her fingers, sending a hot spray of creamy white liquid grazing across Bucky’s face with a soft, open-mouthed _gasp._

They continue like this, grazing each other, teasing each other, with Bucky letting his mouth gently, _adoringly,_ explore the soft expanses of Peggy’s breast, and Peggy touching herself, milking herself damn-near dry. It leaves them both gasping, it leaves them both feeling electric, until eventually, it becomes too much. Until it becomes clear that neither of them can wait, not a moment longer. Bucky pulls back, chest heaving, and he looks up, pleadingly, desperately, meeting nothing but Commander-General Carter’s sharp, unreadable gaze.

“May I?” he asks her, chest heaving and feeling desperately, desperately hard.

“May you what, darling?” she asks him, her voice gentle, but one-hundred percent in control.

Bucky swallows, squaring his shoulders as he speaks the words aloud. “May I, ma’am?”

“You have my permission,” she murmurs with a nod, her voice low, level, and steady.

With the Commander-General’s blessing secured, Bucky moves, finally, finally, getting a chance to do what he’d been called in to do. He takes Peggy’s nipple fully in his mouth, moaning as her hot, sweet milk explodes on his tongue, filling his mouth up like a dam recently-burst. He drinks her in greedily, lapping up her milk like it’ll save his life. She moans as he does, matching him move-for-move, milking her other tit with a desperation that rivals Bucky’s own. Neither of them makes an effort to embody any form of restraint, between Peggy’s unrelenting self-servicing and the milk that Bucky has allowed to dribble down his chin.

Bucky’s cock is hard, achingly hard, against his tac pants, and he gasps up at her, blue eyes wide and pupils blown. She threads her fingers through his hair, and meets his gaze through long, dark lashes brushing against her high cheekbones. Wordlessly, mouth occupied, he tries to telegraph a request, a plead, a deep, painful _want,_ and eventually, she nods, giving him all the permission he needs, all the affirmation he could ever want.

With barely a moment’s pause, Bucky frees his cock, already leaking with precum. As he continues to service his Commander-General, his mouth absolutely soaked from the bridge of his nose down, Bucky leans into the soft, familiar touch of his right hand clenched tight against his cock, stroking desperately, base to tip.

It’s not long before they’re both close, both of them teetering on the very edge of coming completely undone. Bucky leans into his own touch as he continues to suck Peggy off, stroking himself in time to his rhythm of his mouth—hot and breathy and full-to-dripping with Peggy’s milk—against Peggy’s breast. He can feel her getting closer and closer, her skin tense, taught, thrumming with near-electric energy underneath. 

“Oh, _oh, fuck_ —” Peggy gasps eventually, and her entire enhanced body flexes, gripping Bucky’s curls and giving them a sharp tug, sending rough sparks shooting off throughout his entire body. He moans around her breast, and she presses him to her breast, close, close enough to feel the thrum of her supersoldier heartbeat against his cheek as she comes, knees trembling and milk dripping from her round, perfect, _no-longer-over-engorged_ breasts in thick, heavy drops. Bucky doesn’t manage much longer, shooting his load in his hand, hot and sticky and _messy,_ almost as messy as his deft, beautiful mouth.

When Bucky pulls off Peggy’s tit one last time, it’s with a dripping mouth and a filthy-sounding _pop._ She leans back in her chair, her muscular, six-foot-four frame all languid and powerful against the city’s skyline. Together, in the most secure place in all of New York City, they catch their breath, two supersoldiers, completely undone.

“Goodness,” Peggy breathes, breaking that hot, heavy silence, sounding equal parts orgiastic and relieved. She cups her breasts, once again, squeezing them almost absentmindedly. No milk comes out, not this time. “Well. You really _do_ know how to use that mouth of yours, don’t you?”

She grabs a small, soft washcloth from one of her desk drawers, and wipes herself down, quickly, efficiently, before offering it to Bucky. He’s _soaked,_ he thinks, as he tidies himself up. Good thing he came prepared with a change of clothes in the duffel. “You know it’s what I do best, Pegs.”

“Mm, and I’m glad for it. Thank you, darling,” Peggy says, kissing Bucky on the lips, gently. Fondly. Bucky revels in it, trying not to look _too_ bashful when she strokes his cheek, gently. They’ll have to go back to Commander-General and subordinate soon. As soon as Bucky leaves her office, in fact. But for the time being, they can be just as sweet on each other as they are when they’re home. For the time being—for this moment—they can be two happy members of a supersoldier triad. “Don’t let this feed your ego, but I have to say, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“What, you wouldn’t wanna call in a baby agent to do my job for me?” Bucky jokes. She rolls her eyes.

“ _Please._ They can barely look me in the eye,” she says, slipping her blouse back on. It buttons over her chest now, if only barely. “If they pulled one of these out, I’d lose about ninety percent of them to spontaneous coronaries.” 

Bucky snorts, peeling himself out of his uniform. The tac suit is a mess. As are his tac pants. As he pulls a clean set of clothes out of his duffel bag, Peggy gathers up the tac suit, squirreling it away in one of the many, many hidden compartments in that ever-secure watchtower of hers. He’ll get it back from her soon enough. Before their next mission, at the very least.

Eventually, they both manage to put themselves together—Bucky, in a clean change of clothes, and Peggy, in her blouse, now with a dark blue blazer over it. After a quick wipe-down, the office, too, is as clean as it was when Bucky arrived. Not that it matters; Peggy is its sole permanent occupant, after all. 

“Well,” Peggy says, nearly a sigh.

“Should probably get going,” Bucky says. “I’ll pretend to be _real_ put-upon. Tell the agents you’re a _real_ hardass.”

Peggy laughs, shaking her head, chestnut curls bouncing as she does. “Be nice to them. They’re already afraid of me as is.”

“Good,” Bucky responds, only half in jest. “Gotta keep the kids on their toes.”

All Peggy does is shake her head, pecking Bucky on the cheek. “I’ll see you at home, darling.”

“Thanks, Peg,” Bucky says, making his way back to the private elevator.

“Oh,” Peggy says, grabbing his attention, just in time, too. “And _Captain Barnes_?”

When Bucky turns, he is at full attention—a Captain to his commanding officer, once more. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Next time, let’s try it without the uniform,” Peggy says, her voice serious, but her words playful, underneath her dry delivery. “Dry cleaning a tac suit is quite the expense for the organization, after all.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky says, with a grin. “Anything else you need from me, ma’am?”

Peggy shakes her head, and when she sizes him up, when she sends him a smile, it’s all playful. “Nothing more than your continued service, Captain.”

With a nod and a playful faux-salute, Bucky makes his leave. She didn’t have to tell him twice. She didn’t even have to tell him once. Bucky _would_ continue that loyal service to his Commander-General, to Peggy.

That, they both know, was _guaranteed._

**Author's Note:**

> if you're looking for someone to thank (blame?), look to [em. she’s the one who dragged me to hell.](archiveofourown.org/users/goodmanperfectsoldier) i promise you that the next fic after this will be as (relatively) clean (vanilla?) as i usually am. 
> 
> couple more notes:  
> \- title is a reference to the [capitoline wolf](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capitoline_Wolf), adopted mother to romulus and remus. i'm not clever.  
> \- working title for this fic was from [doja cat’s “moo!”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXnJqYwebF8) which i'm absolutely sure you can understand why  
> \- can we just take a moment to collectively say: [hi i love my big wife](https://softpunkbucky.tumblr.com/post/189517013282)  
> \- [I REALLY LOVE MY BIG WIFE](https://softpunkbucky.tumblr.com/tagged/peggycap)  
> \- [as i have said before](https://twitter.com/aka_spacedog/status/1154778646625656832?s=20), if your peggycap isn’t 6’4” and 280 pounds of pure anglo-american muscle, what the fuck are you even doing. [come on. c'mooooon](https://twitter.com/aka_spacedog/status/1090346927068086272). 
> 
> anyway, stan beefy peggycap now, stan beefy peggycap tomorrow, stan beefy peggycap forever, that's my political platform and i'm sticking to it


End file.
